


Would You Please?

by FoxCollector



Series: Tobirama and Izuna Have No Luck [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Again, Bath Houses, Big Brother Brigade, Gen, Hair, I hope to scare people, Izuna maybe wouldn't be so bad, Skin, Tobirama is an awful wingman, another attempt at horror, cop!Madara, no ships, not that these things are entirely relevant, not very nice of me, questionable water, reporter!Izuna, teacher!Tobirama, then ship away!, unless you have your goggles on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: Izuna paid no attention to the lights. “Aw come on. It would be so relaxing! When’s the last time you even went to a proper bathhouse?”“I’m not sure I’d call that a proper bathhouse,” Tobirama said. There was just enough reluctance in his expression for Izuna to pounce.Or, Izuna really just wanted to unwind, but it ends up being a lot less relaxing than he was hoping.





	Would You Please?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so anyone who read my shippier bath house fic with Izuna and Tobirama might remember that I mentioned being unfortunately inspired to write something horror-themed. Well, this is it! Heavily inspired by Yamishibai (there's a bathhouse episode and this starts much the same way, but then diverges a lot), so anyone who watches that will probably recognize aspects of this.
> 
> I really don't know why, but I keep pitting Tobirama and Izuna against ghosts and whatnot. Oh well. I'm hoping this will scare/gross some people out, so let me know if I hit the mark.
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

            By the time Tobirama and Izuna left the incredibly terrible (but apparently mandatory) dinner party with mutual friends, it was late. Well past dark, even if it was during the cooler months when the sun set earlier.

            They were both bone-deep tired; a full day of work followed by an evening full of socializing with a couple as sappy as Ichi and her husband? Izuna loved Ichi, but those two were sickeningly sweet and far too talkative. Izuna was tired enough after being at his computer all day, he couldn’t imagine how tired Tobirama was after spending the day teaching an unruly bunch of seven year olds. So, feeling a little charitable, Izuna had offered to give Tobirama a ride home, seeing as he had the car. It was basically his car at this point anyway, Madara usually had a squad car or some unfortunate lowly constable to drive him around.

            Later on, he’ll wish he hadn’t had the car and that they’d both been forced to bus, but at the time, he was happy. And Tobirama seemed a little less sour at the idea of getting home at a more reasonable time.

            They were stopped at a red light when Izuna saw it.

            “Oh, hey, is that a bathhouse?” Izuna asked. He perked up at the sight, a bad idea forming in his mind.

            Tobirama glanced out the side window, uninterested. “It looks like it.”

            “It’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.” It certainly didn’t look familiar. But it could have been there all along and he’d just never noticed, or it could have opened yesterday.

            “I couldn’t say,” Tobirama answered. He leaned his head back against the headrest in a slump.

            The light turned green and Izuna didn’t move. He was really contemplating seeing if the bathhouse was still open. Izuna loved bathhouses. There was nothing more relaxing than a good old-fashioned soak in the bath. And it had been way too long since he’d been to one. He was _supposed_ to have to gone to one with Madara the previous week, but his brother had reneged on their deal and cancelled the plans.

            And, well, judging by the time…There was a decent chance the bathhouse would still be open. But even if it was open now, if he took the time to take Tobirama back to his place and then came back, then it might be closed.

            Oh well.

            He could just take Tobirama along then.

            Work made him feel gross and a bath would be so relaxing… Even Tobirama couldn’t say no to –

            “No,” Tobirama said. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was eying Izuna.

            “What?” Izuna exclaimed. How the hell did he know what he was thinking?

            “We are not stopping there,” Tobirama said. “And also, the light is green. _Was_ green.”

            Izuna paid no attention to the lights. “Aw come on. It would be so relaxing! When’s the last time you even went to a proper bathhouse?”

            “I’m not sure I’d call that a _proper_ bathhouse,” Tobirama said. There was just enough reluctance in his expression for Izuna to pounce.

            “Think about it! No Hashirama yelling, no Madara complaining, no anybody. I can be quiet, it’ll be really relaxing. I’ll even wash your back!” Izuna was already preparing to turn off and find parking.

            “We don’t even have towels. Or soap,” Tobirama said.

            “Actually, I do,” Izuna said, slyly. “I was supposed to go with Madara last week to that big fancy outdoor one on the edge of the city, but he cancelled on me. I still have the stuff in the back. So we’re completely covered.” Izuna tried not to sound too triumphant. It wasn’t too often he outmanoeuvered Tobirama.

            “It…has been a while…” Tobirama admitted.

            And Izuna knew he’d won. He turned right, barely even looking up at the lights and found them a spot a little farther down the street.

            “It’s probably closed anyway,” Tobirama muttered as they made their way around the corner, arms full of towels and toiletries.

            It wasn’t closed, and after the long day Izuna had just put in, he was ready to jump for joy, right into the water that is.

            Inside it seemed only slightly larger than Izuna had been anticipating. It was quiet though, and the fluorescent lights above did a poor job of making the place seem inviting. There was only person in the lobby, an old woman sitting at the counter across from the door. Her skin was loose and saggy, and it seemed to hang from her slight frame in a way that made Izuna a little grossed out. But she was perfectly polite with them and the price was more than reasonable. She pointed them towards the back hall and the blue entrance marked for men, and then returned to whatever it was she was reading.

            “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” Tobirama said under his breath as they entered the changing room.

            Izuna heard him anyway.

            “Bathhouses are great. You’re gonna be so relaxed, I’ll have to mop you out of here,” Izuna said.

            Tobirama shot him a look and Izuna just grinned in response.

            Izuna shoved his clothes into a basket, phone on top of the pile. There weren’t any lockers available, but it didn’t really matter. No one else was there and it was late enough that he wasn’t worried about anything being taken.

            Tobirama tutted at him and folded all of his own clothes, but also set his phone on top of the pile, and wrapped himself in the towel Izuna gave him.

            The bathroom itself was fairly small. There were six taps, three on either side of the room, and only two of them had stools and buckets. White tiling coated the walls, scales that slid back towards the end of the room where they stopped abruptly in favour of dark wood. It looked a little odd, the contrast, and it made Izuna think of the back of a mouth – like white teeth and the darkness of a throat. The bath, inlaid into the floor like a pit, was full of milky water. Steam rose from the calm surface. It looked fairly inviting, if not overly fancy.

            “Should have just saved time and money and gone to the new one tomorrow,” Tobirama said.

            “What, alone? I think Madara actively hates bathhouses,” Izuna complained.

            “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go,” Tobirama said. He set off for one of the taps with a stool and bucket in front of it.

            “Maybe next week then!” Izuna said. He sat himself down a spot away, even if he had to drag the stool across the floor to the other side.

            It was incredibly quiet in the room, even the sound of the water running and splashing seemed muted, as though there were no echo. It didn’t really bother Izuna though. He was enjoying the silence. Usually trips to the bathhouse were accompanied by Madara complaining about having to keep his hair out of the water, and how it didn’t feel clean and on, and on, and on. And on the occasions where they were joined by the Senju brothers, it only got louder. Hashirama did not come with volume control or a mute button and usually had way too much to say about absolutely nothing at all. At least Tobirama was usually quiet, unless he snapped at his brother. Or Madara. And that always escalated.

            So it was a nice change of pace to have the quiet room. Even if Tobirama was starting to look apprehensive for one reason or another.

            There was a sliding sound, like feet slipping on tile, and Izuna looked over. It wouldn’t be surprising if Tobirama was about ready to get into the bath, his hair was much less high maintenance. But Tobirama was sitting there, towel in his lap, looking up at something Izuna couldn’t see. He followed Tobirama’s gaze and saw that there was a gap between the wall in front of them and the ceiling. It was high enough that they couldn’t see over it at all, but there was a good foot and a half at least between the wall and the ceiling.

            Then a voice came over from the other side of the wall, and Izuna guessed that it must be the women’s bath. “Um, excuse me, is there someone over there?” It sounded like a young woman. She had a low, husky voice; it sounded sexy, and Izuna found himself wondering what she looked like.

            “Yes. Yes, there is,” Izuna called back, a little more flirtatiously than was strictly necessary.

            Tobirama didn’t say anything.

            “Ah, well, I’m embarrassed to ask, but… do you have any soap?” the woman asked. Something about her voice was at odds with the manner in which she spoke, and it intrigued Izuna.

            “Oh yeah, of course,” Izuna said. He grabbed the bar of soap he’d been using. He could always just use Tobirama’s, it was actually his after all.

            “You didn’t bring any?” Tobirama asked, his attention fixed on the gap above them.

            Bastard.

            “I’m really sorry. I forgot mine at home, and they didn’t have any for me. It’s okay if you don’t have any,” the woman said. She sounded sad.

            “No, no, we have some. I’ll just toss it over to you,” Izuna said.

            “Would you please?” the woman asked.

            Izuna tossed his soap over the wall, and Tobirama went back to filling his bucket with water. He didn’t hear the soap clattering to the ground, and assumed the woman must have caught it.

            “Thank you,” the woman called over.

            “Any time,” Izuna said. Maybe if he hung around outside afterwards, he could meet her, maybe casually start up a conversation…

            Tobirama tossed his soap over, hitting Izuna in the leg with it.

            “Hey, Sleazuna. Clean up,” Tobirama said. He was already rubbing shampoo into his hair.

            “Shut up. Hobirama,” Izuna shot back. But he took it and finished washing up so he could try and wash his own hair.

            A few moments later, the woman spoke again. “Excuse me, but do you have a bucket?”

            Izuna glanced at Tobirama. “Uh, yeah.”

            “There aren’t any over there?” Tobirama asked loudly, one eyebrow raised.

            “No, they’re all gone,” the woman answered. “It’s okay if you don’t have one.”

            “No, we’ve got two over here. You can have one,” Izuna called. “I’ll throw it over.”

            “Would you please?” the woman asked.

            Izuna tossed the bucket over. He was almost done washing up anyway.

            “Maybe there are only two buckets and they both ended up over here?” Izuna shrugged at Tobirama.

            Tobirama shrugged back at him, eyed the top of the wall for a moment, and then passed his bucket over to Izuna.

            There was silence on the other side of the wall for a while, and Izuna finished washing up. Just as he stood up to head down to the bath, however, the woman spoke again.

            “I’m sorry, but do you have shampoo?” she called.

            Tobirama scowled, crossing his arms. He raised one shoulder and Izuna interpreted it as ‘she’s just going to take all your stuff’. Which probably meant he had been spending too much time with the prickly Senju.

            “I do. Would you like it? We’re done with it anyway, so I can just toss it over,” Izuna said to the woman. To Tobirama he directed a shrug that said ‘what can you do about it’.

            “Would you please?” the woman called. “My hair always gets so messy.”

            “Oh, yeah, no problem.” Izuna tossed the tiny bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner over the wall. “I hope that’s okay.”

            “Yes,” she sounded more pleased than Izuna thought it warranted, but whatever made her happy. “Thank you.”

            “Sure.” Izuna headed to the bath at the other end of the room.

            Tobirama followed, glancing at the wall between the two rooms. He’d technically finished before Izuna, but hung back for a moment, which was definitely weird. But then, Izuna considered, Tobirama was weird.

            Steam wafted up from the thick looking water, and as inviting as it had seemed before, it now seemed just a bit off. Sure, there were hot springs where the water had that same colour, same texture, but this was an indoor bath. They weren’t usually so…fancy? Izuna wasn’t sure if that was the right word.

            “It almost looks like milk,” Izuna muttered. But he climbed in anyway, hair piled awkwardly on top of his head and kept down by the towel resting there.

            Tobirama was climbing in on the other end of the bath, and the whitish water made Izuna think of the white melting off of his skin.

            The water was at least warm, not hot enough to be uncomfortable, and not lukewarm (which always felt gross). It felt heavy, like a blanket, and slick. It was relaxing, which was a relief.

            “This is nice,” Izuna declared.

            “I’ve had better,” Tobirama said.

            “So have I, but still, after today? I’ll take what I can get.” Izuna resolutely leaned back, reclining and floating one of his feet up to watch his toes emerge from the water.

            Across from him, Tobirama had his arms folded across his chest and his head tipped back, eyes closed as he leaned heavily against the side of the bath.

            Izuna felt his own eyes slip closed.

            Then, “Do you have any lotion?” came the woman’s voice. “If you do, would you please give it to me?”

            Izuna opened his eyes. “Um, no, sorry.” He called back. “We just came from work, so we don’t have any.”

            “Oh,” she said.

            “Sorry,” Izuna said again.

            There was no answer. He hated to think she was sitting there alone, sad, naked and wet…he shook his head and focused instead on Tobirama, who was giving him a look that said he knew where Izuna’s thoughts were wandering.

            Izuna smiled sheepishly.

            It was quiet for a while then, and Izuna was trying not to fall asleep, which was usually his cue to leave a bathhouse. Tobirama had his eyes closed again, but his head was no longer tipped back.

            “It’s too bad there isn’t any lotion.” The woman’s voice came drifting over the wall dividing the baths. “My skin gets so dry. Do you have nice skin?”

            Izuna raised an eyebrow. Was she hitting on him? Wouldn’t that be nice. Maybe he could ditch Tobirama and take her home, then call Madara, pretending to beg for a ride and have Madara pick up Tobirama. It would be perfect. They would both be so mad. He could even steal Tobirama’s clothes just to make it even better. They would gut him, and it would be so worth it.

            He wondered again what she looked like. He was thinking tall and buxom, with that husky voice. But the way she spoke, he was pretty sure she would be a little nervous in bed and –

            “Do you?” she asked again.

            Izuna was pretty sure he had turned red. “Uh, well, kind of.”

            Tobirama snorted.

            Izuna scowled at him. “But my friend here, he’s got nice skin. Real pale and smooth.”

            “What.” Tobirama said flatly. One eyebrow twitched. “Don’t drag me into this.”

            “Just take the compliment, Senju,” Izuna said. He was almost cackling with glee at the annoyed look on Tobirama’s face.

            “I don’t want it.” Tobirama turned his nose up like he could actually refuse it.

            Izuna opened his mouth to say something else, but the woman cut him off.

            “Oh, that’s lovely!” she exclaimed.

            Izuna almost regretted his teasing.

            “Do you have nice hair too?” she asked.

            Tobirama frowned at Izuna, clearly not intending to answer.

            “Don’t be rude,” Izuna told him.

            “I’m not being rude. You’re the one trying to sleep with her,” Tobirama shot back.

            Izuna didn’t try to deny it. It would be pointless. Instead he called back to the woman.

            “I got him beat there! His hair is nice and all, but I’ve got long silky black hair,” Izuna called.

            Women usually loved his hair. It was a point of pride for him, especially considering the bird’s nest on Madara’s head.

            “How pretty,” the woman sighed.

            Izuna smiled widely.

            “It would look really nice,” she said, “if someone had his skin and your hair.”

            That was…not what he was expecting. He supposed it was technically true though.

            Tobirama was eying the space above the wall, something creasing his brows. Was she spying on them or something? Izuna looked too, but didn’t see anything. He raised an eyebrow at Tobirama, but the other man didn’t seem to notice.

            “Do you have a razor?” the woman asked.

            “Uh no, sorry,” Izuna called back. He wondered what she might want a razor for, perhaps touching up her legs if she was planning on going home with him? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

            “Oh,” the woman said sadly. “Oh well.”

            Tobirama climbed out of the bath and wrapped his small towel around his waist. There was something off about the way the water slithered down his skin. Izuna sighed. It probably was time to go. He climbed out as well. He’d been hoping to hear some sign of when she was leaving.

            “Come on,” Tobirama said. “Maybe you can wait in the lobby.”

            Izuna perked up.

            “Are you leaving?” the woman asked.

            How easy was it for her to hear them?

            “Uh, yes,” Izuna called back.

            “That’s too bad,” she said. “But you, you have nice skin.”

            Tobirama crossed his arms defensively over his chest, annoyed.

            “You have nice skin,” she repeated. “Would you give it to me?”

            Both Tobirama and Izuna stiffened. That was…an odd question. The way in which she said it made Izuna uncomfortable.

            “Would you please give it to me?” she asked again, before either of them could say anything in response.

            “No,” Tobirama said. He raised an eyebrow, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I’m still using it.”

            They shared a look, Izuna confused and incredulous, and Tobirama’s expression sliding into something guarded and suspicious.

            “Ahhh, that’s too bad,” the woman said. “And what about your hair? So pretty. Would you please give it to me?”

            “Uh, no, sorry,” Izuna said. He stepped back.

            They had both been frozen at the side of the bath, still on the wooden floor. Now Izuna took a step towards the tiled section.

            “No. No, no, no. Now you keep saying no. You said yes. Gave me things. You don’t need it anymore. I do,” the woman said.

            Tobirama was watching above the wall again, and he took a step towards Izuna without really looking and moved past him.

            “We should leave,” Tobirama said.

            “No shit,” Izuna said. All thoughts of bringing someone home flew right out of his head as they started heading towards the changing room.

            “I need it. I need your pretty skin, and your hair. Mine keeps falling,” the woman said.

            There was a scraping sound and a squeak that Izuna couldn’t place.

            “Would you please give it to me?” she asked. She sounded much closer somehow.           

            Izuna walked into Tobirama.

            “Dude, keep going,” Izuna urged. He stepped around Tobirama and caught sight of his face.

            Tobirama looked horrified in a way Izuna had never seen before. He hadn’t known Tobirama could even make that face.

            And, well, he really didn’t want to know what would make him look like that, but…he turned his head and followed Tobirama’s gaze to where he was staring at the dividing wall of the bathroom.

            Something was climbing over the wall, sliding its limbs over the side and pulling its body up. It had long dark hair, stringy and wet and sparse across the skin of its skull, though it was thick at the bottom and gray and red and blonde like layers. Its skin slid unnaturally over its bones. One hand snagged on a tile and the skin sloughed off, revealing another layer of ruined skin beneath.

            “I need it,” the woman said. The thing said. She hauled her body forward and fell to the floor like a sack of bones.

            Her face – whatever spell had frozen them in place broke then, and Izuna bolted for the door. Tobirama overtook him a second later when they entered the changing room.

            “It really is pretty skin,” the woman said. She had hauled herself to her feet, even though they slid around loosely.

            There was no door between the changing room and the bath area. And there was no real door between the changing area and the lobby, only the cloth door that marked the room as “Men”.

            There was nothing between them and her.

            Tobirama paused briefly, and Izuna pushed him.

            “Just go,” he said.

            “And hair, so pretty,” she called after them.

            They burst into the hall and made it all the way to the lobby before they stopped. The lobby was empty now, the old woman nowhere to be seen, and Izuna spared a brief thought to hope that she was okay. When he glanced towards the front door, there was something terribly wrong with the blank wall that stretched in front of him. There was no door. Izuna looked back, expecting the woman to be standing there wearing her borrowed skin.

            But the hall behind them was empty.

            Tobirama stood in front of where the door used to be, he ran his hands along the wall as though tracing the outline of the door. He turned back, frustrated, and wrapped his arms around himself, clearly cold in the open air of the lobby. He came back over to Izuna, eying the hallway that lead to the baths warily.

            “Where did she go?” he asked, glancing around the room.

            Izuna shrugged, unsure whether Tobirama was referring to the old woman or the thing in the baths. “What do we do? Call the police?”

            “You really think they’d believe us?” Tobirama asked.

            “I dunno, say, ‘hey, there’s a crazy person wearing someone else’s skin here’, and I think it’ll get their attention,” Izuna said.

            “You have a point,” Tobirama conceded. “My phone is still in there.”

            “…Mine too,” Izuna said.

            Tobirama leaned over the desk that the old woman had been sitting at, searching for a phone. After a moment, he pulled up a receiver.

            “Thank fuck,” Izuna said.

            Still, there was nothing from the end of the hall, from either bathroom.

            “Do you think she’s still here?” Tobirama asked. His fingers hesitated over the buttons.

            “I dunno. I don’t really want to find out though. Unless you want to go back in there,” Izuna said.

            “Not particularly,” Tobirama said. He hit a button, and Izuna grabbed his arm.

            “What?”

            “What if it’s a ghost?” Izuna asked. He was pretty sure he was completely off his rocker, but somehow it seemed better to think that it was a malicious spirit rather than an actual person in the back. Besides, a person couldn’t make the front door disappear, could they?

            “What do you mean, ‘what if it’s a ghost’?” Tobirama was annoyed, but Izuna could feel a slight tremor in his arm that spoke to adrenaline and pure terror.

            “Or what if we imagined it? You know, it was a long day, and well, we were sitting in that hot bath for a while…we could have been hallucinating,” Izuna said. Now _that_ sounded like wishful thinking. He wasn’t even sure which of them he was trying to convince.

            “So, what, you don’t want me to call the police?” Tobirama asked.

            “Well, I mean, what if we’re wrong? What if it’s a ghost? Then we’re standing here naked and the police are annoyed at us and we don’t get home until tomorrow,” Izuna said.

            Tobirama glanced down at the small towels around their waists. “I’d rather be a bit embarrassed than a lot dead. I’m calling someone.”

            “Call Madara,” Izuna said.

            And maybe it was childish, but Madara had always fixed things when they were little.

            “He’s a cop anyway. Then, if we find anything else, we call more cops, on-duty cops,” Izuna suggested. That was a good plan. A safe plan.

            “I am not calling Madara,” Tobirama said, but his fingers were dialing the number already.

            A second later, Izuna heard the tinny sound of a phone ringing, it seemed loud in the hollow lobby. Then the line picked up and Izuna could hear his brother answering on the other end.

            “Uchiha Madara,” he sounded distracted.

            “Madara, it’s Tobirama.” Tobirama frowned at the phone as though Madara could see him.

            “Tobirama?” and Madara suddenly sounded more focussed. There was a clattering in the background and another voice too indistinct to make out. “Where the hell are you calling from? I don’t recognize the number.”

            “Yes, well, that’s because I can’t get to my phone. Can you come and…help us?” Tobirama asked. He scowled.

            “Us?” Madara asked.

            “Hi Madara,” Izuna called to the phone.

            “Izuna? What are you doing?” Madara asked.

            “We need help, so can you please hurry?” Izuna said.

            Madara made a frustrated noise. “What do you need help with?”

            There was a familiar voice in the background, asking something Izuna couldn’t quite make out. Izuna was nearly plastered against Tobirama’s back as he listened in. There was a thunk and then suddenly Hashirama was on the phone.

            “Tobirama! What’s wrong?” Hashirama asked.

            “Can someone please just come down here before we’re murdered and my skin is worn as a trophy?” Tobirama sounded exasperated.

            Izuna glanced down towards the baths. The hallway was still empty. He didn’t like not knowing where she was. It crossed his mind to think that maybe she couldn’t leave the baths for one reason or another, but it seemed unlikely.

            “Where are you?” Hashirama asked, and it was like an entirely different person was speaking.

            He sounded concerned. Which made sense. Tobirama wasn’t prone to calling for help. Hashirama was generally an upbeat man, barring the overdramatic mood swings, and Izuna could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard the other man sound serious. The memory that stuck out the most was when he and Tobirama had gotten lost as children and Tobirama had broken his arm, and Hashirama had been the one to find them.

            Izuna supposed Hashirama could be trusted to get them out if need be.

            “We’re in a bathhouse on Block 62, on the way home from Azais. I think the number was…14?” Tobirama said. He glanced back at Izuna for some kind of confirmation, but Izuna could only shrug. He hadn’t really been paying that much attention.

            “Okay, I can-” Hashirama started.

            There was an indignant squawk and suddenly Madara was on the line again. “What’s going on? What did I hear about skin?”

            “Oh, great, you again. Please give the phone back to my brother so I can make sure he comes to the right place,” Tobirama said.

            “We’re already on our way,” Madara snapped. “Are you hurt?”

            “We’re fine,” Tobirama said, there was a sudden clattering sound from the back that made his voice skid high on the second word.

            Izuna swore.

            It was the first sign since they’d fled the room that something else was there.

            “What? What happened?” Madara asked. He barked an order to Hashirama to drive in the background.

            “Just hurry up,” Izuna said.

            “Stay on the phone,” Madara said. There was swearing in the background and Izuna could hear Hashirama insisting Madara ask about Tobirama.

            “You’re both okay?” Madara asked.

            “For now,” Tobirama said. “Put us on speaker. Please.”

            There was a weird click and suddenly road noise filtered through the old phone.

            “You remember the address?” Tobirama asked.

            “Block 63, bathhouse,” Hashirama said.

            “Block 62!” Tobirama corrected.

            “We’ll be there in like five minutes,” Hashirama said.

            “Why are you at a bathhouse at this hour?” Madara asked.

            “Ask your brother,” Tobirama said. He glanced over towards the hall, but it was still empty.

            “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Izuna said with a shrug.

            “Apparently –” Madara began and then he was cut off when the line went dead.

            There was no dial tone. Someone had cut the phone line.

            “Well, that’s great,” Izuna said.

            Tobirama slammed the receiver down.

            The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop and Izuna felt goosebumps rising on his arms. He was acutely aware of the sticky floor beneath his bare feet and the tiny shudder that ran down Tobirama’s back and the way the whole room seemed suddenly so exposed. There was nowhere to run to.

            Footsteps echoed down from the changing room, strangely loud. They sounded odd, like a kind of slap-slide. Izuna stared down the small hallway in horror, expecting the woman to emerge at any moment.

            “Where did my skin go with no clothes?” the woman’s voice called out. “Where is my hair so I can comb it?”

            Tobirama inched back, away from the desk and towards where the door was supposed to be. Izuna watched out of the corner of his eye, afraid to take his eyes off of the small hallway. He didn’t want to be caught by surprise by that thing. He would prefer to see it coming. The footsteps sounded as though they were right at the curtain of the men’s room.

            Any second now, she would push her head through and Izuna would see the way her skin hung in layered folds so deep they nearly obscured her eyes. Any second and he would see the way she slid around in her skin when she took a step.

            Nothing.

            Was she just playing with them? Could she really not leave the baths?

            “Still here, aren’t we?” she asked.

            Izuna recoiled and saw Tobirama do the same against the far wall. He kept his mouth shut.

            “Called for help? Maybe more skin for me? Maybe eyes. I need eyes. Would you please give me eyes?” she asked.

            Izuna wanted to throw up. He was starting to think she really wasn’t human at all. There was no way someone could do all that and still be human, right?

            “You said you would help me, you gave me things. Why won’t you just give me his skin? And your hair? I thought you were nice,” she said.

            Izuna could see her feet at the curtain, and the fabric began to push forward slowly as she pressed her body against it.

            There was a violent banging against the wall.

            “Is anybody in there? Open the door!” It was Madara.

            Izuna’s eyes snapped to where the door should be immediately, and then just as quickly turned back to the hall, terrified of what she might do when he wasn’t looking.

            Tobirama banged back. “We’re in here. But I can’t open the door.”

            A red hand slid out to push at the curtain, skin peeled back from dark nails.

            There was swearing outside, then. “I’m gonna kick it. Get out of the way.”

            Tobirama came over to him, far enough away from the wall. The crown of a head emerged slowly from under the curtain.

            The door banged open, hinges splintering from the force of Madara’s kick. Izuna barely turned to look, barely took his eyes off of the figure at the end of the hall. It was only a second that he’d paid less than his full attention to the hallway, but when he refocused on it, it was empty. The curtain hung flat and still.

            Madara was shaking him.

            “What happened?” Madara glanced down the hall where Izuna was looking, and then back at his little brother.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Izuna could see Hashirama attempting to inspect Tobirama for any injuries and refusing to let go of him.

            He could see the doorway with it’s splintered hinges. It was like it had never been gone, and it made Izuna think that it had been there the whole time just out of sight.

            “There’s someone else here. I think,” Izuna said. He wasn’t really sure anymore.

            “You think. Where are your clothes?” Madara asked, eyes appraising both Izuna and Tobirama briefly.

            “In the changing room,” Tobirama said. He had given up and allowed his brother to tug at his arms and check him over.

            “Who else is here?” Hashirama asked. He released his brother, apparently satisfied that everything was in order.

            “A… woman,” Tobirama said.

            “Or something,” Izuna said. “In the men’s bath. She was wearing skin.”

            Madara gave him a blank look.

            “I mean like, other people’s skin. And she wanted Tobirama’s. Skin, that is,” Izuna explained.

            “And your hair,” Tobirama added unhelpfully.

            “Right.” Madara pulled out his gun.

            “Are you even supposed to have that?” Tobirama asked. He sounded annoyed but it was entirely ruined by the fact that he appeared to be hiding behind Hashirama.

            Madara ignored him and went down the hall gun first. Izuna followed slowly at a safe distance, hanging back when Hashirama passed him to catch up with Madara. There was silence for a moment when they reached the men’s room and Madara pushed the curtain aside.

            Izuna’s stomach dropped. What if she was right there? What if Madara got hurt?

            Tobirama was right behind Hashirama, peering in, and Izuna hurried to catch up.

            “What the hell happened in here?” Hashirama asked.

            The floor was wet and there were shredded bits of cloth flung all over the room. Two empty baskets lay on the floor, pulled apart, and Izuna realized it was their clothes, shredded into pieces so small he hadn’t even recognised them. Izuna saw his phone lying in a corner, and his wallet and keys laying in random places.

            Beyond that, the bathroom stretched ahead, empty and spotless. It filled him with dread. The dark wood area where the bath itself lay now seemed even darker beyond the white tiles.

            He had an odd feeling that she was waiting in the bath. And the thought occurred to him that maybe the water was white with all her dead skin. But no. That didn’t make sense.

            And yet…

            “Grab what you can, I’m going to check the back,” Madara said.

            Izuna opened his mouth to object, and Tobirama beat him to it. “No. Don’t go back there.”

            Madara gave him a puzzled look. “Why not? Weren’t you asking for my help?”

            “We just want our stuff, and we’re good to go,” Izuna said.

            Tentatively, he stepped forward.

            Nothing happened.

            He hurried and snatched up his phone, wallet and keys, then grabbed Tobirama’s phone and wallet when he spotted them. He shoved them against Tobirama’s chest, barely waiting for him to grab them before he let go.

            “Not a lot left,” Madara said.

            “We really should check the back. Just in case,” Hashirama said.

            “Brother, no. Leave it,” Tobirama said. He wrapped a hand around one of Hashirama’s biceps.

            “We’ll be fine. You just…” Hashirama blinked. Then he shrugged off his coat, shaking off Tobirama’s grip, and gave it to him. “Here.”

            Tobirama frowned, but tugged the jacket on anyway. It didn’t really do much. It was just big enough on him that it went partway down his thighs. Izuna would have laughed in any other situation.

            Madara shoved his own jacket at Izuna, and Izuna basked in the warmth of a trench coat as he pulled it shut and tied the belt.

            “Just stay in the lobby,” Madara said. It looked a bit like he was addressing Tobirama’s legs, but Izuna couldn’t blame him. It was pretty funny.

            Neither Tobirama nor Izuna moved.

            “Suit yourselves,” Madara said. He entered the bathroom, Hashirama right behind him.

            Tobirama crouched, one hand braced on the floor between his legs, and picked up something rough, and it took Izuna a moment to recognise it as part of a shoe. Part of his shoe. Damn. Those were expensive.

            How could she have ripped them apart like that? Maybe if she’d had a razor of some kind, he could see it, but as far as he knew, all she’d had were fingers. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if she’d caught up with them; what she could have done to them and what would have been left for their brothers to find.

            Ahead of them, Madara and Hashirama had stopped. Izuna leaned forward, unsure what they were doing.

            “Is this skin?” Madara asked.

            There was something that looked almost like a glove lying on the ground. Izuna remembered a hand snagging on the wall, and the slick pull of skin. He gagged.

            “I think so,” he managed after a moment.

            “Gross,” Hashirama declared.

            “Don’t touch it,” Madara said. “You shouldn’t even be in here, you’re just contaminating the scene.”

            “I’m your back-up!” Hashirama insisted.

            Izuna could almost feel the eyeroll from both his brother and Tobirama. But Madara didn’t press the issue and allowed Hashirama to follow him further.

            Tobirama was checking his phone beside Izuna, apparently ready to call for help immediately.

            Izuna glanced down at his own phone. He was actually surprised their phones and wallets were left intact. It almost made him suspicious. He opened his call logs and messages just to be sure everything was in order. It was, and that made him even more suspicious. There was a vague thought in the back of his mind, that she could use the information on his phone to bring people to her, and that was why she had left it. Or maybe it just hadn’t been as easy to tear apart and she’d given up.

            There was a thud ahead and both Izuna and Tobirama snapped their attention to it. Madara had kicked over the bucket by the stool.

            “Doesn’t look like there’s anything here,” Hashirama said.

            “If there was someone here, they must have left through some back way,” Madara said. “I can have someone look into it.”

            Izuna nodded.

            “That looks like some kind of milk bath.” Madara gestured to the water at the end of the room.

            “You think someone could hide in there?” Hashirama asked.

            Izuna thought his heart might stop. Of all the things.

            “Maybe. But I doubt they could hold their breath for so long,” Madara said. He came back down to the changing room, Hashirama trailing behind him.

            “We can just check the women’s room, and then I’ll call it in,” Madara said.

            “No!” Izuna exclaimed. “I mean, no. Call other people. Just take me home.”

            Madara considered him for a moment. “Alright.”

            Izuna wondered how bad he must have looked for Madara to agree so easily. They filed back out into the lobby, and there was still no sign of the old woman.

            “Tell your people to look for an old woman,” Tobirama said, apparently on the same track as Izuna.

            “Was that who threatened you?” Madara asked.

            “No, at least I don’t think so. But there was an old woman here when we came in,” Tobirama said.

            “Anything else?” Madara finally re-holstered his gun and pulled out his phone instead.

            “Can we leave?” Izuna asked.

            Hashirama ushered them outside, while Madara followed, phone to his ear while he talked to whoever it was he needed to talk to.

            Outside it was dark and the night air stung at Izuna’s cheeks. He felt a wave of sympathy for Tobirama, who stood there with his bare legs. There wasn’t much to be done about it though, and at least they weren’t stuck in there with _her_. He was pretty sure both of them would take being cold over being dead.

            Madara came over to them after a moment and said that he would wait until a patrol car came by, then take Izuna’s and his shared car home. Hashirama would take Izuna himself home. Izuna was okay with this, except for the part where he didn’t really want to be alone. Still, as long as he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe he could convince the Senju brothers to wait around until Madara got back.

            He just hoped Madara wouldn’t be stupid and go back in there alone.

           

            That night, Madara didn’t come home until much later. Hashirama and Tobirama had hung around, at the cost of something for Tobirama to wear, and all three of them had stayed in the living room until Madara came back. While Madara was locking his gun up, Hashirama had decided everyone needed tea and had bounced away into the kitchen.

            Izuna heaved a sigh, finally able to relax now that Madara was home.

            He turned to Tobirama. “You know, I was hoping I wouldn’t be going home alone tonight, but I wasn’t exactly planning on you and your brother!”

            It made the corner of Tobirama’s mouth twist up. “You know, you have the worst taste in women.”

            “Apparently. Promise you’ll stop me from making that mistake again?” Izuna said. He was almost serious.

            “I’m not sure anything can stop you when you want to make a terrible decision. But I can try,” Tobirama said.

            There was a loud squealing from the kitchen that made both of them jump. Then Tobirama frowned.

            “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” He stood up and hurried to the kitchen, arguing with Hashirama all the way and trying to stop him from burning Izuna’s apartment down.

 

            Izuna heard later that the police had gone over the building and found nothing beyond a pile of shredded clothes, a loose glove of skin and an empty bath. There was no old woman, and none of the officers saw anything.

            He learned that the place had at one time been a less than popular bathhouse, but had been closed for several years after going bankrupt. According to Madara there was no way it could have been open, and the phone had been disconnected for years. There was no real evidence beyond a skin glove. Skin which happened to match that of a missing person’s case from a few years back and a few cities over. The only reason the police weren’t eying him sideways was probably because of Madara.

            All of that raised more questions than Izuna was entirely comfortable with. He was a reporter, he was supposed to find answers, not a bottomless well of questions. He would have to do that on his own time however. At least he could count on Madara to bring him information.

            It did make him wonder though. Had the old woman at the counter worked there before the place closed? Or was she a skin suit for the woman in the baths? And what was in that water? Had it even been water? Thick and slick. It made him think of lotion. And dead skin. It made Izuna scrub extra hard at his skin in the shower for a good month.

            One thing was for sure, the next time he was planning on going for a bath, his guest list was going to include Madara, both Senju brothers, and Madara’s gun. Just in case.


End file.
